


beautiful nothing

by slotumn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Existential Angst, F/M, Injury, Introspection, Lysithea von Ordelia Needs a Hug, Near Death Experiences, Semi-established relationship, Whump, i guess?, lysithea has burnout but there isnt a term called burnout in the universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 11:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30105312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slotumn/pseuds/slotumn
Summary: There was an odd sort of calmness that came with the realization that you were dying.(Or maybe it was just her.)
Relationships: Lysithea von Ordelia/Claude von Riegan
Kudos: 7





	beautiful nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, yes, my favorite kind of angst: existential angst.

There was an odd sort of calmness that came with the realization that you were dying. 

Or maybe it was just her, since she had, technically, been in the process of dying for over a decade now, and therefore had plenty of time to get used to it.

Either way, Lysithea didn't panic as much as she thought she would when the demonic beast's attack and poison hit her head on. It hurt, but not as intensely as some of the headaches she frequently got after too many all-nighters, and during the few seconds her body got flung across the air, she even managed to appreciate the view, thinking, so this is why people ride pegasi and wyverns. 

" _Lysithea!_ "

Her back hit and skidded on the ground shortly afterwards. She felt the impact, but it didn't register as pain, at least not immediately.

The movements on the battlefield faded into the background as her vision blurred and her ears rang. If she concentrated, she could make out the shadow of something flying overhead and someone calling her name— but really, why should she?

Why should she concentrate, when she was so _tired_.

It wasn't like her to think that way, of course, and this was a bad time to die, because of—

"Hang on," came a familiar voice. "We're going to get you somewhere safe, so hang on, okay?"

—because of, what?

A pair of stronger arms dragged her up onto something, and then she was rising. The distinct scent told her it must have been Claude and his wyvern.

Rustles. He was going through his bag. 

Using only one hand to steer didn't sound safe. She needed to say something about it. 

She couldn't get a single syllable past her throat. 

May as well close her eyes and pray, then.

"Don't fall asleep," Claude said— commanded— with a light shake to her shoulders, and for some reason, that was what sent a spike of sharp ache up to her head. "No falling asleep. You're good at staying awake, right?"

He seemed to be expecting an answer.

It took a few seconds to steady her breathing to give one, which was something along the lines of,

"...Stop, stop shaking."

He did. 

The next change of scenery placed her back on the ground— somewhere with more cover. Her upper body was propped up in a comfortable position, enough that she could probably just drift off, if it wasn't for the cold, hard vial being shoved at her lips. 

"C'mon," Claude urged, "Say 'ahh.'"

He had to be like that even in this situation, came the reflexive internal complaint— but if she didn't do as he said, he'd get even more annoying. 

Liquid dribbled down her chin when she opened her mouth and did her best to drink. Childish, she knew, but he wasn't going to make fun of her for that later, was he?

If she survived. 

And she might not. 

"Rgh..."

Her throat felt tight and swollen and outright thorny as she forced herself to swallow what did make it past her mouth. Afterwards, she, once again, really, really wanted to fall unconscious and get some rest (temporary or otherwise), but something kept buzzing in the back of her mind, like mosquitoes on a summer night. 

Like she forgot something important. 

"That was an antidote. You should be okay now. Teach and others will arrive soon."

"...rry."

Claude must not have caught that, as he didn't reply. 

"Tell Ma and Pa I'm sorry," she repeated, voice thin and hoarse. 

A hand gripped her on each shoulder, but thankfully, didn't shake her. 

"..."

Silence.

Was he searching for something to say?

Claude von Riegan, at a loss for words; that was new, she thought, currently lacking the energy to be smug about it, not even internally. 

"Don't— _say that_ ," she heard, the voice undoubtedly coming through clenched teeth. "I just told you, you're going to _live_."

And now, he was being serious. 

As unbelievable as it was, Lysithea suddenly realized she would have preferred him joking or teasing her, because now she didn't know how to respond. 

Then again, she wasn't obligated to or anything, right? 

"Teach! Marianne! Over here!"

Her eyes had slid shut at some point, and her head went so blissfully blank that the world around her faded as she floated.

Floating, floating away, floating to a place where she wouldn't have to struggle, a place where she wouldn't have to fight. 

A place where she didn't have to be everything that defined her here— working hard, striving, improving, never taking the easy way out.

What would any of that matter, when she was dead. 

And what did it matter, if she died a little sooner rather than later. 

Such weak thoughts. Such unhelpful thoughts. 

"Hey. Lysithea. Are you still here?"

She needed to chase them away and get back on her feet. 

"...Claude."

For her parents, for her friends, for her territory, for herself.

"Good, now just—"

"You know, Claude."

"You can't..."

"—a little longer, we'll have you healed in no time," Claude kept speaking, and most of it escaped her ear. 

She was so damn _tired_.

She just wanted the luxury of giving up, for once.

"...you can't always save everyone."

It came to her as she fell unconscious, into the beautiful nothing. 

* * *

Lysithea woke up staring at the infirmary's ceiling. 

The time was either sunrise or sunset, judging by the orangish light shining across the room, and her mind was at the stage where it knew it was going to be embarassed about what she did earlier, but hadn't quite thawed enough to feel it yet. 

"Hey."

And when she turned her head to the side, Claude, fucking Claude von Riegan, was there.

 _What are you doing here,_ she thought. _Are you ever going to lay off._

"...Hello."

He shut the book in he was reading with an audible tap— a strategy book, because of course it was.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes."

Silence. 

She wasn't sure if she hated it or didn't care, so she looked back up to the ceiling, eyes unfocused. 

The normal Lysithea was taking longer than usual to come back, it seemed.

"You know, Lysithea," he finally began, after a good while. 

"..."

"You're right."

 _You can't always save everyone,_ her own delirious voice echoed. 

Speaking when she wasn't thinking straight was, truly, an awful decision. 

"But—"

A sigh, some tapping of shoes against the floor, another exhale that wasn't quite a sigh, a determined inhale. 

"—I've always saved everyone who matters."

 _And I always will,_ was the silent addendum. 

Lysithea raised her arm and draped it over her eyes, shielding it from the blinding sunlight. 

Her own reply of,

_That's what's going to hurt you one day,_

stayed silent, too.

**Author's Note:**

> [Join the Lysiclaude Discord!](https://discord.gg/GZmtGbw) (Adults only for ease of moderation, please note.  
>   
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/slotumn?s=09)  
> 


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